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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24889081">When You're a Stranger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala'>Sineala</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, New Avengers (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Angst, Avengers Vol. 5 (2013), Bad Decisions, M/M, New Avengers Vol. 3 (2013), Pining, Temporary Amnesia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:08:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24889081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has made a mistake.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>409</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When You're a Stranger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironlawyer/gifts">Ironlawyer</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday, Ironlawyer! I heard you liked amnesia, so I put some amnesia in your amnesia. Please enjoy some angst.</p><p>Thanks to Iso, Hope, and Blossom for helping bring the pain. Thanks to Cake for the ringtone suggestion.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony narrates his actions to himself as he goes, in the hopes that doing so will provide some sort of justification. This was necessary. All this was necessary. One day, Steve will understand why this was necessary. Steve will forgive him. It had to be this way.</p><p>He lands the Quinjet smoothly in the hangar, lowers the ramp, and unstraps Steve's unconscious body from the seat. He scoops Steve up with guilty, armored hands, and he carries him out and down a flight of stairs to the personnel quarters. There's no one to catch him. For all Tony's talk at Jan's party about needing to get bigger, the Avengers right now consist of him and Steve, the Tower's sole residents.</p><p>He nudges Steve's partially-open door all the way open with an easy little kick of his foot -- why have locked doors, after all, when Steve trusts him wholeheartedly? -- and deposits Steve, in full uniform, on his bed.</p><p>Then he heads next door, to his own room, and sheds his armor. Even as the models change, it's still a familiar ritual. This one, gleaming black and gold, even folds down into a backpack, almost like the old suitcase ones. His pulse pounds in his head. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.</p><p><em>There were no other options</em>, he tells himself. <em>There are no other options. What were we supposed to do?</em></p><p>Now dressed more informally, in a t-shirt and khakis, he heads back to Steve's room, and he proceeds to strip Steve out of his uniform. He knows how to do this -- from battle, from uniform fittings -- but this is intimate. This is a violation. Him and Steve, they're not like that, no matter how much Tony wishes they were. But this, too, has to be done. Steve has to believe he could have fallen asleep like this.</p><p>Eventually, after wrestling with Steve's body and giving silent thanks to Stephen Strange for making such a good spell, a spell that is keeping Steve unconscious long enough for this, he has Steve down to his boxers. Steve probably sleeps in his boxers.</p><p>Tony rolls Steve over like he's arranging a toy and pulls the covers up over him, ready to head out the door and think about his own life choices. This was necessary. All of it. Steve can't be allowed to interfere with the rest of the Illuminati. They had to wipe his memory of the relevant events. There was nothing else they could do. There was nothing else he could have done.</p><p>Then the covers rustle and Tony turns around. Steve's eyelashes flicker. He's in REM sleep. He's probably dreaming. He looks like he's having a bad dream. He looks like he's going to be able to wake up soon. The spell has clearly worn off -- that part of it, at least.</p><p>Tony might as well wake him up anyway. He's already committed enough sins tonight; what's one more?</p><p>He leans against the doorframe, shoves his hands in his pockets, smiles. "Wake up, old man."</p><p>Steve's eyes open immediately. He props himself up, squinting into the light of the corridor beyond Tony.</p><p>"Hmm?" Steve asks. He's still squinting. There's a long pause. "Who are you?"</p><p>
  <em>Oh, fuck.</em>
</p><p>Tony has made a mistake.</p>
<hr/><p>Confusion rapidly spreads over Steve's face as he pats his hands over his chest, figures out he's sitting here in his underwear, and then looks wildly around the rest of the room. The window on the far side of the room has the blinds shut, but the lights of nighttime Manhattan glimmer through the slats.</p><p>"Where am I?" Steve demands. "How did I get here?"</p><p>In the midst of his panic Tony has to repress the urge to laugh, because, God, he's never forgotten the first words Steve said to him when they met, and it seems like even an amnesiac Steve has exactly the same damn questions.</p><p>And then Tony stops wanting to laugh, because Steve's pushing himself out of bed and his fists are clenched. "How did I get out of the water? And where's Bucky? How did you find us, Nazi? What have you done with him?"</p><p>Oh God oh God oh God. It's worse than he thought. It's so much worse.</p><p>Tony holds up his hands, palms out: a sign of surrender he's long since trained himself out of using, but the only one Steve will recognize. "Hey, hey, Steve. Take it easy, okay?"</p><p>Steve's brow furrows. "How do you know my name?" He does put his fists down a little. Maybe it's the American accent.</p><p>Tony doesn't even know where to start. "I know a lot of things," Tony says. "And I'm not a Nazi. I promise. You're in New York. And Bucky's-- Bucky's fine, okay?" He doesn't actually know where Bucky is right now. Probably out on his own doing something covert. Maybe Natasha knows. "My name's Tony. I'm-- I'm a friend."</p><p>
  <em>Ha.</em>
</p><p>Steve's eyes are narrowed; some suspicion remains. "I don't know you."</p><p>Tony is actually surprised by how much this hurts.</p><p>"Yeah," Tony says, hoarsely. "That's actually part of the, um. Problem. Say, could you tell me the name of the president?"</p><p>There's an unexpected ripple of grief across Steve's face; his fists finally unclench. "Truman," he says, and the name sounds hollow. "President Roosevelt passed away yesterday."</p><p>This is getting worse and worse. Also, Tony does not have FDR's dates memorized. "So that means that today is...?"</p><p>"April 13," Steve says, like it's obvious. "Friday," he adds, like he thinks that's what Tony's asking. He smiles a polite little smile, the helpful one he gives strangers, and if Tony's heart weren't already broken, it would be now.</p><p>Tony knows that date, all right: the day Steve went into the ice. Oh, God. He asked Tony where Bucky was. He asked how they got him out of the water. Falling from that plane is the last thing Steve remembers.</p><p>"Okay," Tony says. This is not okay. He runs his hands through his hair. "You might want to sit back down."</p><p>Steve does not. Of course.</p><p>Tony takes a breath. "It's Wednesday, December 5," he says. Another breath. "The year is 2012." Another breath. "And you have a severe case of amnesia."</p><p>
  <em>And it's all my fault.</em>
</p><p>Steve sits down on the edge of the bed. His head is in his hands. Tony wants to sit next to him. Tony wants to put his arm around him. But Steve doesn't know him. And if Steve remembered him, he sure as hell wouldn't want him to anymore.</p><p>"Sixty-seven years," he breathes. He holds out one hand in front of him. Turns it over. "I don't look old," he marvels. "I don't feel old." Tony knows Steve is probably wondering if it's the serum. He also knows that this Steve isn't going to volunteer anything about the existence of the serum.</p><p>"It's not the super-soldier serum," Tony says, and Steve's head snaps up in surprise. "Well, it is and it isn't. But you're actually only missing about a decade. I'm sorry. I know that's probably not much of a comfort."</p><p>Steve bites his lip. "Not really."</p><p>What can he do? What does he need to do? <em>Think, Stark, think.</em> The spell went wrong. He knows who he needs to talk to.</p><p>"I will explain everything later," Tony says. "I promise." <em>And what's that worth from Tony Stark, these days?</em> "But right now I need to call a doctor."</p><p>A muscle in Steve's jaw tightens. "Am I free to go?"</p><p>It would be very easy to be Steve's jailer.</p><p>"Well, you're not a prisoner," Tony says, hoping he sounds like he means it. "But I'd recommend staying in the building until the doctor gets here, at least. There's a kitchen one floor down if you're hungry. Fully-stocked. Eat anything you want. It's on me."</p><p>"It's on you?" Steve echoes.</p><p>Tony tries to make himself smile. "It's my building. This is where we live."</p><p>"Oh," Steve says. There's something more tentative in the way he looks at him now, something soft and hopeful that he swears he's never seen in Steve's eyes. "I... live with you? We live together?"</p><p>Tony is <em>definitely</em> not ready to touch that one right now.</p><p>"Yes," Tony says, wrong-footed. He feels like the boot jets have cut out and he's falling through the sky. "Yes, but it's not-- you're not-- I really do have to go call the doctor. Excuse me."</p><p>He turns and practically runs away.</p>
<hr/><p>He goes down to his workshop. He needs privacy above all, and right now Steve won't know how to find him here. Good.</p><p>Wong answers the video call after an inordinately long number of seconds, rubbing his eyes. Tony can't bring himself to feel bad for waking him up.</p><p>"Ah, Mr. Stark!" Wong says, somehow still gracious. "What can we do for you?"</p><p>Tony has no time for social niceties. "I need to speak with Stephen."</p><p>There's hesitation on Wong's face. "Can this not wait until--"</p><p>"No." Tony's voice is tight in his throat. "It's urgent."</p><p>Wong nods and waves his hand, and whatever interface Stephen has worked out between telecommunications wiring and his scrying spells is clouded with mist, and then there's Stephen's face on the other side. He looks even more tired than Wong. No wonder. Tony knows what his day has been like, after all. And Stephen probably got more sleep than Tony did, because he teleported home from Wakanda and didn't have to fly a damn Quinjet.</p><p>"Tony?" Stephen says. "What's the matter? Is it another--"</p><p>Tony doesn't want to hear anyone say the word <em>incursion</em> for the rest of his life. He suspects he won't be that lucky. "It's Cap." His voice is strained, nearly breaking. "He doesn't-- he doesn't remember anything."</p><p>Stephen blinks at him in incomprehension. "Yes? I thought that was the point."</p><p>The Vishanti wouldn't have made him the Sorcerer Supreme if he were actually stupid, and Tony knows Stephen isn't, but he's too frustrated to get all the words out. Tony hisses. He wants to punch something. He's so tired. They're all so tired.</p><p>"No," Tony says, still vicious. "I mean, he doesn't remember <em>anything</em>. The last thing he remembers is 1945. You <em>fucked up</em>, Stephen."</p><p>Defensive, Stephen's face twists in that archly-superior manner he likes to pretend he doesn't have. "Amnesia spells are very complicated and require a great deal of finesse to execute perfectly, Tony. Under the circumstances, we didn't really have a lot of time."</p><p>Tony's clenching the edge of his work bench with all the strength in him. If he were Steve, it would break. "Maybe for <em>Steve's brain</em> we could have <em>made time</em>."</p><p>"By the moons of Munnopor," Stephen says, through gritted teeth. "What do you want me to <em>do</em>, Tony?"</p><p>"I want you to fucking <em>fix him</em>!" Tony snarls, and he's on his feet, he's yelling now, stabbing a finger in Stephen's direction. "All you were supposed to do was make him forget about the Illuminati's little problem. <em>Do that</em>."</p><p>Unfazed, Stephen just stares at him. He's silent for a few moments, and when he speaks his voice is quieter. "I'll look into it--"</p><p>That's more like it. "<em>Thank</em> you--"</p><p>"--but given that there has already been damage to his memory from the initial spell, what you want may be impossible." He pauses. "I think you need to consider... what you can live with."</p><p>What he can live with. Great. He can't live with this. He can't.</p><p>"And I am sorry," Stephen continues. "I know how much you... care about Captain America, Tony." </p><p>The words seem to be chosen with uncommon delicacy. Tony wonders just how obvious his feelings are.</p><p>"I promised him -- you remember, in the Necropolis? -- I promised him I would make this right," Tony says, quietly. "I have to make this right."</p><p>Stephen nods, once, a curt jerk of his chin. "I'll call back when I have something."</p><p>His image fades into wisps of smoke and the call disconnects.</p><p>Tony sighs and shuts his eyes. Right. Back to work, Avenger. Time to face Steve again.</p>
<hr/><p>He finds Steve, thankfully, in the kitchen of the common area, as he'd suggested. Steve has found some civilian clothing in his room and is just finishing up making a turkey sandwich and putting everything away; bottles of condiments are scattered across the counter as if Steve had taken the time to get out everything unfamiliar to him -- which would have been a lot of them -- and read their names and ingredients. The sandwich is much smaller than the ones Steve usually makes himself; he's probably still trying to be a polite guest.</p><p>"Hi again," Tony says, leaning against the door frame. "Glad you decided to stay."</p><p>Steve puts the one last bottle of honey mustard away and looks up. He smiles and he's just so-- so <em>innocent</em>. It's like the old days.</p><p><em>He's so trusting</em>, Tony's mind whispers. <em>He's a blank slate. He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything you've done to him.</em></p><p>
  <em>You could start over.</em>
</p><p>He represses a shudder.</p><p>"You did say you'd explain," Steve returns. "And it's pretty clear that this--" he gestures at the huge, open-concept floor that is the Avengers' common area, and then at the city beyond the windows-- "isn't the New York I remember." Steve's smile is almost rueful.</p><p>Okay. He can do this. He can be normal for Steve. He can be good to Steve. He tries to smile back. "Well, then. While I'm waiting for a call back from the doctor, why don't you and your sandwich come over to one of these couches, and you can sit down, and I'll tell you what you've missed?"</p><p>Steve is beaming at him now. "That'd be swell, thanks!" He looks down at his plate. "Can I get you anything while I'm up?"</p><p>He's always been kind. He doesn't remember anything. In the beginning, he was always kind. There's a lump in Tony's throat.</p><p>"No, uh," Tony manages to say. "No, thank you. I'm not hungry."</p><p>He heads to the couches, sits, and Steve obligingly joins him. Next to him, only a foot or so away, when there were a dozen other seats he could have taken. Tony pushes back another shiver -- <em>he doesn't want you, he can't, he would never</em> -- clears his throat, and starts talking.</p><p>It's an easy explanation, at first -- the iceberg, the Avengers, joining the team. He explains the RT, since obviously Steve wants to know what the big glowy circle in Tony's chest is, even if he's too well-mannered to ask outright. Explaining how they found Bucky is a little more complicated, and Steve's face is more and more distressed, even as Tony assures him that Bucky is fine now. He's about to tell Steve he'll try to get in touch with the guy for him, when Steve interrupts the explanation and entirely derails it.</p><p>"And we're friends, right? You and me?"</p><p>Tony hadn't really known how to approach the matter of their relationship in his explanation. He hadn't said anything. "Sure," he says, only a little wary. "We're good friends." <em>And sometimes I order my other good friends to rip your soul apart.</em> "Why do you ask?"</p><p>"Well, when I was getting dressed," Steve begins, as he sets his now-empty plate on the coffee table, "I was looking in my nightstand to see if I had a watch or anything, and I found a... device? It looks like a fancy little clock, maybe? But with a photograph on it."</p><p>Steve's hand is in his pocket and he's pulling out... oh. His phone. The date and time are on the lockscreen, of course, but the background--</p><p>It's a picture of the two of them.</p><p>It's a relatively recent picture, taken here in this very room. If Tony has to guess, it's probably from the party they threw after they brought Jan back to this dimension. They're both in uniform, but Steve has his cowl pulled back and Tony has his faceplate pushed up. Steve has his arm over Tony's shoulders, and he's dragged their faces together for a selfie. They're both smiling. Tony is smiling at the camera. Steve is smiling at... him.</p><p>Tony vaguely remembers Steve taking it. Tony takes a lot of pictures with people. It would never have occurred to him that Steve would have done anything like this with it. He would have expected a picture of Sharon here, if anything. Surely Steve and Sharon are still an item. Steve wouldn't have put a picture of <em>him</em> unless--</p><p>Unless--</p><p>Tony's too slow to stop the awful, strangled sobbing noise that wells up and spills out of him.</p><p>"Tony?" Steve says, and he's turning toward him, concerned. "Is everything okay?"</p><p>
  <em>Nothing is okay. You loved me and I threw away all of it.</em>
</p><p>Tony shakes his head wildly and squeezes his eyes closed. "I-- I can't-- you--" He takes a gasping breath. "Your amnesia. It's my fault. You-- it was an accident. I'm sorry. It's all my fault."</p><p>He waits for Steve to turn away, to condemn him, to walk out and take his chances in the future with someone safer, someone better, someone who hasn't become a monster.</p><p>Instead he feels Steve's hand, big and warm, settle on his shoulder, the way he always does. He's a little tentative about it, like he doesn't know if this is presuming too much. Tony wants to tell him he doesn't deserve this.</p><p>"Hey," Steve says, and Tony opens his eyes to see Steve's face, soft and gentle. "An accident means it's nobody's fault, right? Means you didn't want this to happen?" He pauses. "Doesn't sound to me like it could be your fault."</p><p>Oh, if only he knew.</p><p>"We were fighting," Tony gasps out, pathetic, still half-sobbing, choking on the words. "We were-- we were-- sometimes we don't always see eye to eye. It was bad. It was a mistake. I-- I shouldn't have done it--"</p><p>"What happened?" Steve asks. "Did I fall and hit my head? Something like that?"</p><p>Tony is a coward. Tony remembers Steve's body on the floor of the Necropolis. "Something like that. Worse than that."</p><p>Is it lying, really, if it's not the whole truth?</p><p>"Still not seeing how this is your fault," Steve says. He smiles. He can't forgive this. He doesn't know.</p><p>He squeezes Tony's shoulder again, and slowly, slowly, so slowly that Tony has plenty of time to stop him if he wants to -- he starts to move his hand up Tony's shoulder, to the side of his neck. His thumb brushes Tony's jaw.</p><p>Tony stops breathing.</p><p>"Maybe," Steve murmurs, and his voice has a low, dark note in it, and he thinks he's still from the forties and he's straight, isn't he, isn't he straight, and he can't be <em>making a pass</em> at a guy he thinks he's known for something like fifteen minutes, oh God-- "maybe you could make it up to me, if you wanted."</p><p>It is both the worst and best idea in the entire world.</p><p>He can have Steve.</p><p>He can have Steve with ten years ripped out of his head.</p><p>He can't. He can't do this.</p><p>This is the line. The bombs should have been the line. He should have stood up with Steve and walked out of the Necropolis then. He can't do this.</p><p>Could they have had this all along? Could they have had this from the beginning?</p><p>"Steve," Tony says, brokenly, and he realizes he might not know how to say no to this man, in the end.</p><p>Then Tony's phone rings. Specifically, it's starting to play a tinny version of The Doors' "People Are Strange."</p><p>Steve pauses. "What is <em>that</em>?" Nose scrunching, he tilts his head to the side like he's the damn RCA dog, and, okay, maybe Jim Morrison is an acquired taste for someone who was last listening to Bing Crosby.</p><p>"My phone," Tony says. "And your doctor. Sorry. I have to take this."</p><p>"Your phone?" Steve says, clearly confused. His hand drops as Tony moves away, as Tony stands up to get his own phone out of his pocket. </p><p>Stephen's picture frowns up at him. Tony runs into the hallway and, when he's far enough away that he's sure Steve can't hear him, stabs the answer button. He's running up the stairs, into his own room, shutting the door.</p><p>"Tell me you've got something," he pants out. "<em>Please</em>, Stephen."</p><p>Stephen's voice is -- well, it's substantially calmer than his. "I've got something. But you're not going to like it."</p><p>"What is it?"</p><p>"I can fix him."</p><p>"Do it," Tony says, desperately. He's clinging to the phone like a lifeline. He thinks he might cry or have another heart attack. "Do it, do it now, Christ, Stephen, what are you waiting for--"</p><p>"It's all or nothing," Stephen says.</p><p>Tony thinks: <em>oh</em>.</p><p>Maybe this is what hell is like.</p><p>"I can undo it," Stephen says, determined to be excruciatingly precise. "But he'll remember everything. All of it. Including the fact that we previously mindwiped him. I can't make him forget only the Illuminati. Because of the nature of the first spell, I can't perform any other amnesia spells of this type that won't also anchor his present memory in 1945."</p><p>"Do it anyway," Tony says, and now he really <em>is</em> crying, tears streaking down his face. "Do it now. Please. I-- I need him. I need him back."</p><p>Stephen pauses in a way that is probably supposed to be delicate. "Are you sure? He'll be--"</p><p>"I <em>know</em> what he'll be," Tony snaps, because Tony knows he himself will probably be beaten and broken and he will deserve it. "I can handle him."</p><p>"All right," Strange says. "Give me a second."</p><p>The call disconnects. A few seconds later, Tony smells sulfur, and then Stephen's standing next to him, with his Cloak and his Eye and his stupid red-and-black footie pajamas.</p><p>"Doctor," Tony says, in acknowledgment, turning to face him. He doesn't bother wiping his face off.</p><p>Stephen raises an eyebrow and smiles a smile that's barely one at all. "Just take me to the patient."</p>
<hr/><p>Steve doesn't even bat an eye at Stephen's getup; Tony supposes he's seen weirder with the Invaders already. He just shakes Stephen's hand and smiles a guileless smile.</p><p>"Here to examine me, doc?" he asks, cheerfully.</p><p>It'll be a shame when all this is gone.</p><p>"Tony didn't tell you?" Stephen asks. "I can cure you with magic. Fix the amnesia. Give you everything back."</p><p>Steve has also clearly already had some experience with magic, because this doesn't even faze him. "That'd be swell," he says, with another smile. "Right now?"</p><p>"Right now."</p><p>Tony swallows hard. It's almost over.</p><p>"What do you need me to do?"</p><p>Stephen glances first at Tony; there's a flash of regret in his eyes that Steve, thankfully, doesn't know how to interpret. "For the reversion to work properly, I'll need some time to integrate your memories. It's a delicate task. It will be easiest for both of us if you're unconscious."</p><p>The frown Steve gives him is dubious. "Anesthesia doesn't work so well on me."</p><p>"I know," Stephen says, with familiar, quiet confidence. "I'll use a spell instead. It'll work."</p><p>
  <em>It worked fine just a few hours ago.</em>
</p><p>"Okay," Steve says, nonplussed. "I guess I'll... go back to bed then."</p>
<hr/><p>Steve stretches out on his bed, with Tony and Stephen on either side of him. His gaze slides between the two of them. He's nervous, Tony knows, but he'll never say, and this version of him doesn't know Tony knows all his tells perfectly.</p><p>Steve licks his lips. "Will you be here when I wake up?"</p><p>The question is needy, plaintive, another arrow in the heart when Tony is already bleeding out.</p><p>"Tony will," Stephen says smoothly. "I'll probably be gone." That's what Tony asked him to do.</p><p>"Thank you," Steve says. "Both of you." But his gaze settles on Tony as he says it. He's smiling, and it's ripping Tony apart. "I know it'll be different when I remember, but I'm glad I got to see the future with you."</p><p>"I've always been glad about that," Tony says. His voice is shaking. "Even if you don't remember that now. Maybe-- maybe you'll still remember that, when you wake up."</p><p>"I hope so," Steve says.</p><p>Tony already knows that Steve's not going to get what he's hoping for.</p><p>Then Steve looks back over at Stephen and nods. "I'm ready now."</p><p>Stephen extends his shaking, gloved hands over Steve's head, palms held parallel to each other. As Tony watches, a mass of rainbow light gathers in the space between them.</p><p>"Sleep," Stephen says, and Steve's eyes drift shut.</p><p>Stephen looks wordlessly over at Tony, a silent question in his gaze.</p><p>"Do it," Tony repeats.</p><p>He already knows what's coming. But he's done lying now.</p>
<hr/><p>Tony waits. This is his penance. He sits and he waits, while the Sorcerer Supreme knits his probably-former best friend's mind back together.</p><p>He expects it to take a matter of seconds, as it had in the Necropolis. Minutes tick by. He supposes this is what Stephen meant about finesse.</p><p>Stephen's eyes are shut, his hands still stretched over Steve's face, and other than the tiny tremble in his fingers he hasn't moved at all for the past ten minutes.</p><p>Twenty minutes.</p><p>Thirty minutes.</p><p>Tony is starting to wonder if something has gone wrong.</p><p>Thirty-eight minutes in, Stephen opens his eyes and drops his hands. Sweat is beading on his forehead. "Done," he says, with finality. Tony can imagine he used to put down a scalpel and say the same thing.</p><p>"You're certain he'll remember?" Tony asks.</p><p>Stephen nods and pushes himself to his feet. "Absolutely. He's all back together. He'll be coming around in about five minutes. Are you <em>sure</em> you don't want me to stay?"</p><p>He wants Stephen gone. This had nothing to do with him. Stephen may have been the gun, but Tony pulled the trigger. And Tony knows -- oh, how he knows -- how weapons work. He knows who Steve will go for.</p><p>"I'm sure," Tony says. "Like I said, I can handle him."</p><p>Stephen's gaze is unreadable. "You don't remember this, but historically, you haven't always been able to."</p><p>Maybe that's what he and Steve need now: their own private superhero civil war, redux.</p><p>"I'll be fine," Tony says.</p><p>"If you insist," Stephen says, relenting. "I suppose I'll go tell the rest of the club about this little reversal. Wouldn't want any unpleasant surprises, after all."</p><p>Tony does not expect to be alive by the next time the Illuminati need to meet. "Sure."</p><p>And then Stephen is gone.</p><p>Outside, the sky is lightening into dawn. Tony can't see the sun from here, but when he walks over and opens the shades, he sees the light reflecting off mirrored skyscrapers, burnished gold and silver. He supposes he gets one last beautiful thing. He thinks about the warmth of Steve's hand on his face, barely an hour ago.</p><p>There's a noise behind him. The covers are rustling again. The bed creaks. That would be Steve, sitting up. He hears Steve take one hoarse breath, then another.</p><p>"I remember," Steve says. "I remember everything."</p><p>Tony turns around and steps forward, ready for what he deserves.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's the usual <a href="https://sineala.tumblr.com/post/621776947083706368/fic-when-youre-a-stranger">Tumblr post</a>.</p><p>The 1945 date Steve gives is an extrapolation from Captain America: Sentinel of Liberty #7, in which he hears about FDR's death and immediately tells Bucky that they'll mourn later because there's a mission to stop Zemo's drone plane. I figure it's the same day. The 2012 date Tony gives for the current day is the release date of Avengers v5 #1, which depicts Steve waking up in the Tower after the mindwipe.</p><p>Steve the amnesiac can't open his own phone because fingerprint recognition on phones wasn't a thing until 2013 (Apple's Touch ID on the iPhone 5S was the first on a major US carrier, apparently) and he obviously doesn't remember his passcode. He's probably got even more pictures of Tony on that thing, though.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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